Split immortality
by Ghostsammeo
Summary: Jack of Blades has been avoiding death for millennia, but what if a last ditch attempt at staying alive by Jack leaves him sharing a corpse with another of the Court?
1. Chapter 1

Split immortality 

_Written by Ghostsammeo_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Fable franchise and make no money from this story

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"_The Gods and Demons you fear and worship are as nothing to me!_"

— Jack of Blades

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The dragon let out an almighty yelp as he fell through the sky and landed with a rumble on the stone below.

The hero drew one last arrow and with a crick of the bow sent the tip into the creatures head.

Jack of Blades was defeated, his final form gone.

As the hero took his leave the mask began. It whispered temptations to him, talk of unimaginable power, the power that God's feared.

The hero stared into the eyes of the intricate mask. In his hands he soon found it, and as the whispers intensified his hand raised, creeping slowly towards his face.

Jack could not live on. The Hero had beaten him once and he would do it again, for good.

With a quick flick of the wrist, the mask spiralled through the air and landed in the molten lava surrounding the small circle of land the hero stood on. Jack seemed to let out one last cry, and then he was gone.

The hero left through the bronze gate, satisfied that the Jack of Blades had perished, in soul and in body. It was indeed the last the famed Hero of Oakvale would see him yes, but in no means had Jack been defeated.

By the corpse of Jack's dragon form, lay what once was his famed red cloak. It held nothing more than a memory, as would seem the two masks left with it.

These masks were not Jack's, but the Court's. One; a frowning stitched face as its design, belonged to the Queen of Blades, the strongest of them all. The other which had a stitched grin across the bottom as a polar opposite to the Queen's, belonged to the Knight of Blades; least powerful of the trio but by no means weak.

These items were left scattered on the ground, overlooked by all. Naturally traders managed to get their hands on them, selling them off through the decade.

The two masks left each other's company early on, the Knight of Blade's mask to eventually be forgotten in time. The Queen of Blade's mask however found its way into an old family home located in Witchwood. There it gathered dust for nine years, until finally a curious husband stumbled upon it.

Paddy Rein was a simple man. He was newly married to his adored wife Geraldine Stone, who took Paddy's last name in wedlock.

His house was inside the great wooden gates of Knothole Glade, where he had lived all his life. Geraldine grew up in Bowerstone, but had accustomed well to life off the mainland.

Their house was not grand, and was similar to many houses in the village. Made of the wood from the great trees all around, it consisted of three rooms; the bedroom, a small kitchen and eating room and a top room used as storage for unused things.

Paddy was a merchant, as was his father before him. Differing to his father though, Paddy owned his own shop; his father was a travelling merchant, and unhappy to hear of his son's change to the Rein ways.

Paddy never wanted to travel though. He had heard terrifying stories about merchants being turned into bloodthirsty Balverines and tales of bandit attacks along supposedly safe roads. He never liked the facts of the industry either. His father was admittedly a scrounger, one who would find items in travels and try to make worth out of them.

His father died disappointed of Paddy, but the strong Knothole Glader didn't care; he had found the love of his life and planned to live the rest of his life like any other happy villager.

Paddy pushed open the trapdoor and popped his head inside the dusty attic (As the couple had taken to referring it as now). It was full of rotting bookcases and ornaments which the house simply had no space for. With a cough he pulled his whole body inside the room.

The floorboards creaked as he stepped towards one of the bookshelves. It was still stacked with books, old books though, talking about great heroes of the past. Paddy found it amusing; there was no hero greater than the Jack Slayer of modern times, the aging man who had disappeared a few years after the final death of the masked tyrant.

"Maxely the Hobbe, Maxely the Hobbe," He muttered to himself as a reminder.

He was up in the attic looking for that very book: Maxely the Hobbe. It was an old story, and he was searching for it under his wife's request; a teacher in a school who needed it for her students.

"Oh, ah here it is," He smiled as he pulled out a brown leather covered book. He admired it for a second, patted it on the back then turned to leave. Something stopped him though.

He had seen something that second he went to move.

Paddy dropped the book on the floor and went to the corner of the room where a pile of useless knick-knacks lay. He reached into the pile and pulled out the white flash he had seen.

He held the object in his hand, gaping down at it in awe. It was a mask.

It had a definite sinister aura about it. Its stitched mouth sank into a disapproving face and around the right side was a purple and red pattern.

Paddy stared at it awhile longer then quickly glanced behind him. The trapdoor was closed; he was all alone... so why did it feel like there was another presence in the room.

He didn't quite know what to do next. Something so unique and something that seemed so valuable could not simply be thrown back into the pile of items his father had failed to sell. It seemed the only thing to do next was the one thing masks were used for, to wear it.

Paddy felt very stupid and childish as he lifted the mask to his face and after a blow off of dust, put it on. It was cool and somehow did not lower his vision capacity.

As the seconds went by Paddy finally heard the whispering. It was inside his head, creeping in with every second he wore the mask. He would have pulled it off, if not for the pounding headache suddenly thumping against his brain.

Paddy fell to the floor, writhing in pain. He let out a cry as the whispers intensified. His mind began to become someone else's, he had memories he didn't have, secrets he shouldn't know.

The Jack and Queen of Blades were the last things Paddy thought in his own mind. Then Paddy was gone.

In the corners of the mind, Jack of Blades fought for control of the host body. Something was against him, something stopping his normal routine.

Jack's own mask and Jack's body forms may had ran all out, but he was smart enough to pour a small amount of his soul into the Queen of Blades' mask before his final fight with the Hero of Oakvale. Perhaps that was why he had lost, it was only a small amount of power shared but it could have been the reason his mighty dragon formed died or the reason his temptations weren't strong enough.

Either way he had come across a stroke of luck. With such a small amount of himself in the Queen of Blade's mask he couldn't even tempt the passing people of Albion, but some fool had just put on the mask without Jack even having to do anything!

It all seemed too easy, besides this force blocking Jack out.

Soon Jack felt the body rise, but it was not by his control. He roared out in anger and suddenly he was in the driving seat.

He raised the body up himself, and began to walk when he felt something else tugging the steering wheel, someone else inside the mind!

And that's when Jack finally saw. She was in her true form, what she would be in the Void; the Queen of Blades, and here they could talk, in each other's minds.

"Impossible," Jack sneered, "You're dead, I am the only one of the Court to live on,"

The Queen let out a short bark of demonic laughter, her voice was feminine but of pure evil, "Jack of Blades, do you really believe that I am stupid enough to die at the hands of a hero? That's your job I see, you have perished twice now to the same man?"

Jack's yellow eyes lit up, "You watched? You have seen from your mask all this time?"

"The only reason I have not returned to this earth is because you have kept me by your belt all these years, all I needed was one chance to be worn and then the Queen of Blades would return! Now I have, but clever old Jack cheats death again by joining **me**, in my own mind,"

"I had no idea my Queen," Jack spat mockingly, "I was under the impression it would be me in my own new body,"

The Queen of Blades shook her head, "Why do you mock me Jack of Blades, you once bowed down to me and accepted me as your leader, the strongest of the Court,"

"**I **am the strongest of the Court; I am the one who has lived through millennia in Albion while you lay dormant, dead to all who even cared," declared Jack.

"Our minds have intertwined," The Queen said suddenly, "At the moment our shared host body still lies on the ground waiting for you to pick him up, you're currently in control after all,"

Jack turned his attention to his body and pulled himself up.

The eyes of the man once known as Paddy Rein were yellow, yellow like the Jack of Blades'.

"Now what?" Jack questioned, "What happens to our new body,"

"We continue our plans, the plans you took to after me and the Knight perished," the Queen of Blades decided, "It's only been nineteen years since the Hero of Oakvale destroyed you has it not? Surely you haven't forgotten your own means?"

"I am not used to be completely apart from the world, I have not been trapped inside a mask without even the power of temptation like you have for so long," Jack hissed as an answer then walked towards the trapdoor.

"This body... it's so weak," he remarked, he said this sentence aloud; his voice his regular, creepy tone.

"It will take centuries to return to our own individual strengths," The Queen explained, "We will have to live in the shadows for now, when we are at full strength we will then destroy the heroes, particularly any direct descendents from William Black,"

"No, you are a fool," Jack laughed lightly, "Look into the memories of our host, don't you see? The heroes are at the brink of destruction already, the descendent of Black who defeated me has vanished; we can destroy the guild of heroes **now** if we so wish,"

The Queen of Blades surged forwards and Jack felt himself fall away from the world. It seemed he was now a spectator as the Queen took control. The host body's eyes turning purple under the mask to accommodate its new controller.

"We will spread whispers then," The Queen agreed, "but first we must disappear,"

She opened the trapdoor and descended down it to find herself face to face with a woman. The woman stared at the masked monster then giggled, "Paddy take that off and go find that book for me, there's no time to be messing about with your father's old stuff,"

The Queen of Blades stepped forwards and wrapped her hands around the woman's neck. With a swift crack the woman's neck was broken and she fell, lifelessly to the floor.

The Queen and Jack of Blades exited Knothole Glade together as one, their first stop; the taverns of Bowerstone where stories spread like wildfire.

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_Author Note- I ended the chapter here as I felt I needed to get the story up. Hopefully chapters to come will be longer, please review if you enjoyed and/or have some constructive criticism to give. Thanks!_

_**Also if there's any confusion; The Queen of Blades and the Jack of Blades are communicating to each other inside their shared mind, so the things they say aren't said aloud unless described as so. **_


	2. Chapter 2

Split immortality 

_Written by Ghostsammeo_

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Fable franchise and make no money from this story

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"_Then three came from the Void: the Knight, the Queen, and the Jack of Blades. They coveted Albion and demanded that all men bow down before them"_

-Tales of Albion

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In the famous Bowerstone tavern, a crowd had gathered.

The crowd had centred around one table, where a rough looking man with a shaved head and an ugly, red scar down the right side of his face, sat on one of the wooden tables.

He was recalling a tale, the tale it seemed, was on a controversial subject judging from the cries of outrage and surprise from the listeners.

"And he struck me, right here on the face!" The man bellowed and pointed at his disfiguring scar. He grinned as the crowd gasped in horror, he didn't care how he was getting it, but he was happy receiving the attention.

"What did ya' do Paul?" A scrawny looking man sitting down next to the scarred 'Paul' asked.

"I shouted out in pain and the hero just laughed, and to think he could do that just at the Lookout point, that's one of the only safe places outside of a city and this guild-type is taking even that right away!" Paul had the crowd in his grasp. Everyone seemed to care for him now.

Paul had been indeed struck by a hero, but the full story had most definitely not been told. Paul had been down near Lookout point, shouting abuse at the Heroes' Guild.

He had been a hater of the guild and heroes for a few years now, like many others. He had been banned from the guild for what was phrased as 'offensive actions'. Once banned from protesting inside the base of his 'enemy', Paul had set to turning villagers around the Heroes' Guild into fellow protesters.

The story he was telling happened to him only the day before. Paul was throwing stones at one of the heroes coming out the guild. He had chosen a bad hero to pick on. The hero he attacked was morally grey Nail; a grey hooded man with a short temper who took 'no shit from no-one, be that bandits or villagers', to quote said person.

Nail had quickly turned on him and with his blade cut Paul across the face, then in a fit of anger, probably due to a previous aggressive encounter with the Guildmaster, threw the offending stone at the merchant nearby who gave out heroes their nicknames.

"So I ran back here, got my wound covered up and rested for the remainder of the day, lucky to be alive my mother said, lucky to be alive," Paul finished the story and took a swig of his beer.

The crowd burst into chatter, the main topic of conversation the Heroes' Guild and what rights heroes deserve. They talked for another minute, debating on what had stemmed from Paul's tale.

"And... what are you going to do about it?"

The voice belonged to a male most definitely, most villagers would describe it as creepy, but by no means did that mean the voice wasn't intimidating. It rang above all the chattering and brought an uneasy silence to the tavern.

"Who said that?" Paul demanded as he realised the question had been directed to him.

The crowd parted to make a path way towards the shadowy corner. A figure sat there, draped in red and a hood that shrouded his face in darkness.

Paul snorted, "What do you mean what am I going to do about it?"

The figure sat still, head bowed as he spoke, "I mean what are you going to do about it? Protest?"

The question was clearly mocking, yet the tone seemed harsh and angry.

"Well I..." Paul's bravery slowly shrank away the further he stared at this man, the aura he gave off had seemed to freeze the whole of Bowerstone, let alone the tavern.

"That hero cannot get away with this; it's time we fight back" the figure paused, "What's that by your belt,"

Paul flicked his weapon with a grin, "It's a flintlock pistol something or other... I got it in defence... bloody expensive though-"

"Only in defence?" The figure cut him off quickly, "It seems much more offensive,"

Paul seemed to consider this for a second, "Yeah, it is... if I ever get hit I'll-"

Paul was swiftly interrupted again, "But you already have been hit, and now look at that scar... poor man, and I suppose next time he'll just kill you," The figure's voice had changed, it was almost female now. The crowd barely noticed however, they were so entranced by the figures words the voice did not matter.

"And what of all of you?" The figure turned to the crowd, "How will you defend yourself when a hero strikes you in the face with their blade?"

Everyone was hesitant to answer, till a man at the front spoke, "Well I got a flintlock device as well... I suppose I could defend myself when a hero attacks,"

"Good boy," The figure purred, "But the time of defending ourselves is over, why should they always be on the attack? When will it be our turn, surely these new weapons coming about are a sign?"

The villagers began chatting as then the figure stood up, "Arm yourselves... the Heroes' Guild must not exist, it must be destroyed, their time has passed,"

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A week past and word of the rallying in the Bowerstone tavern had spread across the whole of Albion. More and more villagers began to carry pistols by their belts and tension between the hero and the average man intensified. Riots broke out all around and the number of heroes began to decline.

After a few months, the biggest riot to date broke out in Bowerstone South.

Heroes had been sent in, more came for backup, but when they came the fighting had already started.

The villagers fired their amazing weapons at the heroes, some didn't react, intent on not harming the ones they're paid to save. Other heroes, led by Nail - who was one of the first heroes sent in to settle down the riot - were cutting down villagers with their weapons.

It was a futile attempt as the villagers outnumbered by so many. Soon enough Nail and the heroes he led were swarmed by the mob. The heroes remaining fled back to the Heroes' Guild, some turning at Lookout point and fleeing into the forest.

The mob banged at the great wooden doors, eventually breaking through. The heroes could do nothing but be shot and attacked. They could not fight back; it was not in their nature. The heroes who were willing to fight back against the villagers had fallen at Bowerstone.

The Guild fell that day.

"So it's happened," Jack said as he watched villagers come in and out of the destroyed guild, taking valuables for themselves in the early hours of the morning.

"Yes, and it only took three months... strange that you, Jack of Blades, never managed to destroy the guild, yet a simple group of villagers can," The Queen of Blades remarked back, invoking anger in her fellow Court member.

"I had the guild at my knees, I had the sword of Aeons," Jack hissed back.

The eyes behind the mask suddenly switched purple and The Queen began to march towards the guild.

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**Two years later

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**

Years pass quickly for immortals. The two years after the guild fell were taken over by intensive training for the body controlled by the Queen and Jack of Blades.

They trained with the sword, and soon the body of Paddy the merchant from Knothole Glade was hero ready.

Heroes still lived in Albion, though they stayed in secrecy. The Queen and Jack of Blades had hunted some down, intent on ending the Archon bloodline.

The Jack of Blades drew his sword from the man's chest and let the body slide to the floor.

They had found this new un-experienced hero in Barrow Fields, hiding in the outskirts of Darkwood.

He had put up a decent fight, annoying the Jack of Blades.

"This body is still so weak, we've trained for two years and still weak heroes put up a fight against me," Jack emphasised the word 'me', "Me, the Jack of Blades, a being worth ten of the strongest heroes ever to grace Albion,"

"This isn't like you; you have waited much longer to return before have you not, centuries!" The Queen of Blades laughed.

Jack sheathed his weapon and made his way towards Oakvale, "I have waited centuries before yes, but back then I came back graced as the most powerful 'hero' ever, I walk Albion now trying to hide my powers because if discovered I won't be strong enough to survive,"

Suddenly Jack paused, it took all his ability to hold back his plan, but somehow, though sharing a mind, the Queen of Blades hadn't seemed to realise anything.

"Why have you stopped?" The Queen questioned.

"The Void," Jack stated, "The Void is our haven, if we return there our powers would return in little under a few decades, we will keep a bond with the mask so once strong we can return to it!"

The Queen let out a shrill, demonic laugh, "I am not stupid, you would never return to the Void. You plan to let me go by myself, and then when I attempt to return to my mask your power would overpower me, and you would deny me access, leaving me in the Void forever,"

"You have always been smart, I always seem to fall into the impression I am the only one with any ounce of mental ability; it probably comes from the fact I was the only one to return to life after William Black,"

"I have retuned though Jack, only later than you,"

Jack ignored her and continued through Barrow fields.

It would be centuries until he could attack Albion again without certain death, and in that time he knew he needed help from the Queen of Blades. After that, she was of no use to him. She would probably think the same of him.

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_Okay, in case it seems weird, guns actually did come about that early in Albion. I read it up in the 'Tales of Albion', where it talks about a hero seeing the hero of Oakvale in his youth then in his adult life pistols appearing then finally the guild being destroyed, so it all fits. _

_Hope you liked this chapter, thanks for reading and drop a review if you enjoyed._


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